


i need no words, allow me to close the space in between us

by ffslynch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Partners in Crime, Pining, the act of looking is a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch
Summary: Osamu just wants to hold Suna’s hand
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	i need no words, allow me to close the space in between us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaccounttofollowyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaccounttofollowyou/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY [JOY](https://twitter.com/accountforfoll7)!!! Every day I feel incredibly grateful for having you in my life. Hope you have an amazing year, and many more after this one, pursing all your dreams and passions and getting a bit better and better with every step you take <3  
> I had this fic idea for a while, and you seemed to enjoy and when I thought about it the concept seemed to really fit sunaosa, so I thought they would mix well for a birthday present. I hope you like it, and I hope you have the most wonderful day!

Mamihlapinatapai

/mamih-lap-inat-a-pai/

_noun_

  1. A look that without words is shared by two people who want to initiate something, but neither start
  2. A look across the table when two people are sharing an unspoken but private moment. When each knows the other understands and is in agreement with what is being expressed. An expressive and meaningful silence.



__

Osamu learns the importance of the act of looking early on life.

People always gave him a lot of shit for having a twin, assuming he and Atsumu had some sort of ‘telepathy’ and could read each other’s mind. They couldn’t - and more than that, Osamu would never even need to try to figure out what Atsumu was thinking, he would tell it himself. 

As they grew up, Atsumu grew louder, but actually started sharing less. Self-doubt and fear of rejection seeping through the cracks and leading the setter into the depths of perfection. Sometimes it felt like Atsumu forgot he existed outside the court, that he was a person and not simply a setter. That no one would want him for who he was, as a human, and only for his plays. So he stopped talking about his likes and dislikes and thoughts and how his day had been.

And so, because Osamu was Osamu, when Atsumu’s crisis started in their early teens, he learned to watch. To memorize his twins’ twitches and expressions and what they meant. He learned how to understand what Atsumu was saying, and feeling, without the other having to put into words and tell him out loud.

Eventually, Atsumu grew mostly out of it when it came to others - and fell back into the pattern of telling Osamu any and everything that went through his mind. 

Osamu goes on living, never really forgetting how to read people through looks. He carries this new language in the back of his mind, and it becomes second nature. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize how much he’s analysing people. It’s not annoying, but more like a secret superpower. Osamu enjoys his ability elaborated through his early teens and becomes especially grateful for it when they join Inarizaki, and Suna Rintarou becomes a semi-constant presence in his life. 

Osamu will be the first one to admit that they were not off to a smooth start. Suna had this impassive face, as if he was constantly bored by the rest of the team and their school colleagues. He rarely talked during the first weeks of training, and if he did talk he almost always sounded sarcastic or as if he would rather be anywhere in the world but there. He was a slacker and every time Atsumu or anyone else mentioned extra training, he would roll his eyes so far, it was surprising he didn’t have a headache. Not that Osamu was the physical embodiment of ‘team spirit’ or anything like that, but if the guy hated the team so much, then why did he even bother trying out for it? 

Osamu doesn’t get it, and doesn’t really bother learning more about it. Atsumu is a headache enough on its own, and in between that, the team and school exams, he doesn’t need more on his plate to worry.

It’s only during the second game of their first-year season, while Osamu and Suna are both sitting out, that Osamu learns that if interested, Suna talks. A lot actually. He pokes fun of the opposite team, while making actual analytical and interesting comments, drawing out strategies out of sheer observation. He predicts the opposite team plays three moves before it even happens. When his prediction comes to reality, Osamu stares at him, with an eyebrow raised and disbelief in his eyes. 

“How did ye know they were going to do that?” he asks, and Suna shrugs.

“I enjoy watching people.” He says. There’s the ghost of something that resembles a smirk on his face and Osamu is pretty sure that is the first time he has seen Suna smile. He decides he likes it. Osamu nods, and tells Suna his opinion of their middle blocker, to which Suna disagrees (because of course he does) and offers a different perspective from his observation. It escalates to a full-on debate on the other team strategies. They don’t notice coach Norimune watching them until the end of the first set approaches, and he tells the both of them to start warming up. Both Suna and Osamu look at each other, eyebrows slightly raised. It’s quick and simple, but there are two clear conclusions in their eyes:

  1. This is a rare opportunity - as most first years don’t get to play, especially in official matches so early in the season.
  2. They can not mess it up



The second set rolls around, and Osamu is trying to swallow his anxiety and keep focused. Atsumu is right there with him, an extension of his existence on the court, so he knows it won’t be that bad. All he has to do is keep focused and not let the other team get to him.

He looks to the other side of the court, spotting Suna. The middle blocker looks at him and smirks, with a shrug. 

‘It will be fine’, it says.

‘We can do this’, it says.

Osamu cocks an eyebrow and smiles back. 

‘Let the games begin’, it says. 

When Suna snickers and turns up front again, eyes set on the Opposite hitter and biggest threat of the other team, Osamu knows he understood him. 

They barely win that game, but a win is a win nonetheless. Osamu and Suna start getting called more and more into the court, and the Miya twins start working on their Inverse Minus Tempo quick attack, becoming essentials to the Inarizaki team. 

Most importantly, Osamu’s perspective of Suna changes, and with so their relationship. They get closer and closer, messing around and poking fun of their friends and colleagues, complaining about school work and analysing teams and talking about strategies during practice. Above all, they establish this new-found connection, these mutual liking for silent conversations, for talking without saying things out loud. 

Osamu still thinks ‘telepathy’ is bullshit, but he finds comfort in knowing that if he looks at Suna, head filled with snarky remarks and private jokes Suna will look at him right back, with perfect comprehension in his eyes. 

___

There really is no better satisfaction than pulling a good prank.

When they are on their second year of Inarizaki, Atsumu gets invited to the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp. It doesn’t bother Osamu, at least not as much as it should have - which in hindsight should have probably clued both of the twins on the tough conversations they would have in a year or so. 

When Atsumu’s is gone, he and Suna manage to break into his locker. They bubble wrap every single of his objects - obscene amounts of coats of plastic covering every single thing, from pencils to an empty bento box to the two separate extra pairs of shoelaces and one single book. They do it on the second day that Atsumu is gone, and the waiting only contributes to the satisfaction of seeing the frustration on his face, as the setter busts into the gym shaking a shoe in each hand, both unrecognizable under the layers of bubble wrap. 

“Which one of ya fuckers did this?” He asks, face flushed in anger - but he must already know, cause his face immediately zeroes on Osamu. 

The twins stare at each other, both red in the face - one with annoyance and one from trying to hold back laughter.

“What happened?” Kita-san asks, and Atsumu immediately turns to him, a stupid (but usual) wobble forming in his lips. Osamu looks at Suna and rolls his eyes at how ridiculous it is. Suna only raises one eyebrow, staring back at him - because Osamu does the exact same when he fights with Atsumu or when his food gets burnt and Kita asks him what’s wrong. Osamu scoffs and pretends he can’t see. Suna snickers at his reaction.

“Someone pranked me and bubble wrapped everything in my locker” Atsumu whines to Kita. The captain sighs before turning back to the whole team.

“Who did this?” He asks. It’s a simple question, his voice tone is not even threatening or aggressive - it is Kita, after all. 

But then again, exactly because it is Kita, it only means that he doesn’t have to even lift his voice to get the whole team nervous, afraid of disappointing him.

Osamu and Suna look at each other, a play in five acts, quick and silent.

“Should we come forward?” “Definitely not.”

“Was this worth it?” “Definitely yes.”

“Should we run away after practice before he can catch us?” “That sounds good.”

“Want to grab something to eat?” “You’re paying.”

“Rude.” “You like it.”

Kita’s voice snaps them back to reality.

“Whoever it is that did this, please apologize sooner than later,” he says, his eyes burning through Suna and Osamu. They exchange another quick glance.

“Don’t laugh,” Osamu says, silently.

“Don’t fold to Kita-san’s stare,” Suna answers, silently.

They both fail.

In the end, they have to stay to clean everything and unwrap every single one of Atsumu’s objects before leaving. It takes more work than they would like to admit, but in the end, it really is just another afternoon together, so they both deem it worth it. 

____

They are on the bus, heading back home after nationals. The taste of loss is bitter on their tongues, and the frustration in themselves makes their limbs heavy and head fuzzy.

Osamu watches the landscape change, become more and more familiar as they move away from the city and closer to Hyogo. There’s a headphone in his left ear, playing some sad playlist that Suna had made beforehand, prepared for the situation. Osamu isn’t a fan of wallowing, but he has to admit it is kinda cool to have his own personalized music to match his mood. It makes the whole thing a little more cathartic, easier to digest. The other person listening to the soundtrack made to sink them even further into their depressive state is, of course, Suna. 

They are sharing the seat, the headphones, and the loss. Shoulders almost pressed together, in solidarity.

Osamu lets his head fall to the side. When he looks at Suna, the boy is already looking back. 

He watches the golden specks in Suna’s eyes, the apathetic expression that could fool anyone who didn’t bother looking closer, that Suna didn’t really care about anything. But Osamu could see the fine red line under it - an indicator of tears held back. 

Osamu wants to reach, to close the distance in between them. It feels like Suna might need it, and more than that, Osamu really wants to. He blinks, slowly, as they stare at each other. His hand itches, wanting to move, to touch - and in Suna’s eyes, he sees the recognition and understanding of what Osamu is planning to do. 

Osamu thinks that if does, Suna might let him. His fingers tingle and Suna closes his eyes. Osamu starts to lift his hand, perfectly shaped to the curvature of Suna’s jaw and cheeks. 

The noise of Aran groaning at something Atsumu said makes him snap out of it. He and Suna blink, looking at each other, recognizing that there was a moment there. They also understand they’ll most likely not talk about it.

____

The sun is setting, and the wind is blowing and times are changing. 

Suna and Osamu are standing side by side, shoulders almost touching, the space in between their bodies not larger than a volleyball. That’s the standard for them, or at least how it had been for the past three years. The air, however, feels heavy and charged, unlike how their interactions usually go. 

Graduation is in two months, a looming storm in the distance. It’s time for decisions and goodbyes, which neither of the boys is fond of.

Osamu’s confession, the decision to quit volleyball, hangs in the air. It makes it a little hard to breathe, the tension so strong you could cut it with a knife. The fear had been easy to taste on his tongue when he spoke it, and Suna had seen it coming all over his face for weeks now. The confusion and the struggle and then the pain of the final end decision and keeping it a secret from the one person that he had shared the womb and every single important moment in life with, all of it eating him from the inside out, creating creases on his forehead and a shadow over his eyes.

Suna waited in silence for Osamu to tell him, because that’s how they worked. 

After a few minutes with nothing but the wind and the sound of kids yelling in the distance, Suna turns to face Osamu, looking him straight into his eyes. There are many questions there that he won’t say out loud because he doesn’t have to. That’s just how they work.

“Are you proud of this decision?”

“Are you scared?”

“Will you be happy?”

Osamu wants to hug him. Wants to turn and take one step further and put his arms around Suna’s shoulder, and hold him tight, press his chest against his. He knows Suna is aware of this - he has been looking at Osamu for too long, too many years of observation for Osamu to be under the impression that he could hide anything from him. 

Osamu’s fingers twitch, and he almost pulls his hand out of his pocket to pull Suna in by the collar of his jacket. 

But he doesn’t. That’s not how they work. 

They stand close, but not too close. They quarrel and fight and push and pull on each other. But they don’t hug.

Osamu wishes they would, sometimes. 

He ends nodding, just once. It’s all the answer that Suna needs. He nods back, with a sigh, and gives him a smile. 

“I’m happy for you”

“I’m sure it will work out”

“Good luck facing your brother”, his eyes say.

Osamu chuckles, humourlessly, and nods back.

“Thank you”, he means it. And Suna knows it. 

___

The best thing about growing up is that you finally start resembling who you are. It’s tough, sometimes painful, mostly scary, but always worth it in the end.

Osamu tells Atsumu he is quitting. He tells him about his passion for food. He tells him about hazy dreams of his own place, being his own boss and making people happy. Comfort food, food that brings people home even when they are far away from it.

They fight. Atsumu doesn’t talk to him for actual three weeks, and it’s painful in every minute and stage of grief in which they are both on. 

He accepts it, eventually. Of course, he does. Because in the end, Atsumu loves Osamu almost more than Volleyball (almost - and that’s the difference in between them.). He just wants his brother to be happy.

Four years go by - ‘Onigiri Miya’ has been open for only six months, and it’s steady progress of income and increasing popularity. Osamu is prouder than he ever thought he could be. 

Suna was ending his first year with the EJP Raijin. He ended up choosing volleyball in the end, even if he had rolled his eyes every single time someone suggested extra practice and when called off for slacking off during games. Some people may have been surprised by it, but not Osamu. He had seen it as a long time coming, in Suna’s eyes whenever he was inside the court. Even when he was tired or lazy, the passion was always there. 

As of the moment, however, they are both walking through a plantation in Kita’s farm (staying over the weekend, a lovely invitation from their senpai), carrying bags of rice over their backs, and talking about Atsumu’s new teammates. 

“He keeps complaining about Sakusa. Says he is picky and won’t co-work with him.”

“Watch Atsumu fall in love with him,” Suna says, smirking, and Osamu laughs because he can already see it coming.

“The other day he slipped and called him ‘pretty boy’ while talking about his freaky wrists,” Osamu tells, and Suna whistles.

“Pretty Boy Sakusa. Damn, Atsumu doesn’t have a chance,” he mocks and they both giggle.

“Oy, what are you talking about? Quit slacking off on my husband,” Aran yells, miles in front of them, but too used and aware of their antics. 

Osamu and Suna look at each other, holding back their laugh. They had had a much similar conversation, years before, about Aran and Kita and how they were pretty sure that their ‘old couple behaviour’ would end up in them actually getting married. 

They almost laugh again, but Aran threatens to call Kita over, and they both know better than that. 

___

It’s Thursday night, and it’s raining. They are at Onigiri Miya, Suna is exhausted with his knees busted after practice, and Osamu has bags under his eyes from keeping up later and later, planning the next moves to turn what once was a little shop into an actual franchise with at least two new locations. 

When Suna had dragged himself in, in that hideous bright yellor uniform only 30 minutes before closing time, Osamu hadn’t said anything, only nodded and put a plate with three onigiri’s and a cup of Suna’s favourite drink on the counter. Suna sat there, slowly munching away as the last customers of the night paid and thanked Osamu before leaving. The last waiter clocks out and waves a small goodbye. She’s almost out of the door, when she turns around and smiles.

“Oh, happy Valentines day, by the way!” She says, before leaving.

Suna blinks, and so does Osamu. They both turn to the MSBY calendar that is stuck on the side of the fridge that Osamu keeps behind the counter for bottled drinks, spotting the date. Sure enough, it’s February 13th. In less than two hours it will be Valentine's Day. Osamu raises his eyebrows, turning to Suna. Suna shrugs, cause he didn’t know and truly it’s not like he cares.

They are very much single, both of them, after all. 

Osamu nods and looks down to the counter, where his hands are placed, fingers spread open. Suna’s own hands are laying in the counter, long fingers relaxed, palms slightly turned up. Osamu sighs. There’s a space in between their hands, that it seems has always been there, and he always wanted to close. He looks up, and of course, Suna is already looking back. He always is.

There are too many emotions and thoughts and memories to be categorized in this.

Osamu really wants to hold Suna’s hands. He wants to hold it, and squeeze it and lift it up, so he can kiss all and each one of his fingers. 

“Can I hold your hand?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

"I know I'm in love with you. I have been for years."

“Do you feel the same?” his eyes say. 

Suna shrugs, not giving him an inch of help. Unbearable, that’s what he is. A lover of chaos. Osamu sighs, he should have known that Suna wouldn’t make it easy, but that’s also one of the reasons why he has loved him for so long in the first place. Their usual silent language wouldn’t cut for this one. 

This is something he would have to say out loud. 

“Suna” Osamu says, and Suna blinks at him, fake innocence all over his face. “Would ya like to go out with me, tomorrow? It would have to be in the morning before I open the restaurant but...I’d like to go on a date with ya. For Valentine’s day.” he asks, hesitant.

“Well, fucking finally,” Suna says, smirking. 

Osamu wants to kill him.

He kisses him instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my second time writing sunaosa, so I'm still figuring it out the characterization. I hope you enjoyed this and, as always, feedback is more than welcome.  
> If you'd like to see me yelling about yearning, Kuroo and confessions you can always find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ffskuroo)!!


End file.
